


All the Highs

by Floral-Foxes (stilalalinski)



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 16:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4842953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilalalinski/pseuds/Floral-Foxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time passes and Gaby ignores the dampness of her shirt, ignores the tiny sounds Napoleon unwillingly makes</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Highs

The coffee pot falls and the room erupts into silence. Warm coffee spreads and seeps into Gaby’s socks. She steps back and Napoleon steps forward, glass crunching underfoot. 

“I’m—“ the breath catches in the back of his throat and suddenly the world is spinning. He reaches a shaky hand out and steadies himself against the counter. “I am terribly sorry about that,” he forces out. 

Gaby is quiet as Napoleon grabs a dish rag and kneels down. His hand still shakes as he gathers the pieces of broken glass. She peels off her damp socks and tosses them behind her.

“Solo.” 

He ignores her and continues to gather glass shards. A piece slips from his fingers and slices his palm on the way down. A bead of blood works its way to the surface and rains down his skin. He stares at the blood, transfixed, at the fine tremors that still shake through him. His chest hurts. 

Small fingers gently cup his chin and tilt his head up. His breath is hot and unsteady against her skin. 

“Napoleon,” she says forcefully. His pupils are blown wide and she misses the cool blue. She swipes her thumb over the dark circles bruised into his skin. The pads of her fingers are calloused and he closes his eyes with the sensation. She can feel his body tremor under her hands as she pulls him to his feet. She helps him deposit the broken glass into the garbage and they stumble towards the couch. She hugs his body close and shakes with him. 

His quiet protests are half-heated and Gaby shushes him with soft words and light touches. They fall to the couch and she cradles his head to her chest. She runs her fingers through his hair as he breathesbreathesbreathes through the pain and murmurs reassuring words into silky strands. 

Time passes and Gaby ignores the dampness of her shirt, ignores the tiny sounds Napoleon unwillingly makes. She ignores the opening of the door and the questioning and concerned looks. She ignores the guilt twisting in her chest and continues whispering apologizes to Napoleon. She whispers of love and forgiveness and clutches him tightly.

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to read something like this for a while now, and I was suddenly struck the inspiration to write so voila!! This might be continued, it depends on where I want it to go. If you have ideas let me know!


End file.
